As of yet, the untitled story dealing with Ralph.
by Altra
Summary: A bit of Ralph ranting at a psychiatrist. A bit of a dark theme, and minor language, but I think it caputres the gist of the island emotions.
1. Stage 1: Dwell

  
  


Stage 1: Dwell  
  
A _Lord of the Flies_ Conclusion

  
  
  


People die. That's simple enough to understand. Each and everyday, one life ends as another takes its place. You become numb to the idea. Murders, homicides, fatal car accidents occur daily. You learn to deal. Suicide, drug overdoses, accidents are always there. You learn to ignore.  
  
But Simon was murdered.  
  
Piggy was murdered.  
  
I'll never be immune to that pain. Never. With my own hands I might have killed Simon. Simon, who knew, who _knew_, he'd never make it off that god damned island. He died, and I think he died trying to help the rest of us. He knew all along what was going to happen, and to this very day I wonder how such a small boy could have seen what the rest of us were blind to.  
  


I set the chain of events that led to Piggy's death in motion. If only I hadn't called him 'Piggy,' or stood up for him in front of the other boys. I know somewhere in my mind that Roger would have killed him regardless. He would have killed anyone. But Piggy was my eyes for things I was blind to. He knew things I'll never be able to comprehend. I wonder what he could have amounted to, given the chance.  
  


Jack. Jack knew what happened. He knew, and when we returned to England, he dealt with the guilt. He's still dealing with it. And I hope he rots with the despair and responsibility of two young boys' lives. It wouldn't be fair to say I hate Jack; strongly dislike is more like it. If we had never crashed on that forsaken island, I think we might have been friends.  
  
"Ralph, why don't you tell me what's been bothering you lately?"  
  
I glared at the woman.  
  
"Nothing," I replied smartly. She fancied herself my psychiatrist, and a good one. But she wasn't. I knew more about the human condition than she did.  
  
"Now Ralph, if we don't figure out what's bugging you, we won't be able to make it go away."  
  
She talked to me like I was a child. I was fifteen, not five.  
  
"Well then, you'll have your work cut out for you, because nothing is bothering me."  
  


As if the deaths of my two companions would ever leave me because she said so. I'd been told by Samaneric that I thrive on the pain of their murders. Perhaps I do, but it is the only thing that keeps me grounded; keeps me aware.  
  
"Please Ralph. Let me help you. All of the other boys have already told me what happened."  
  
I clenched my fist. We made a pact, dammit. A pact. None of us were ever to speak of what happened. Even Roger swore.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
She simpered at me. God, I wanted to smack her.  
  
"Simon, and Piggy. Why don't you tell me about them."  
  
I sighed inwardly. What the hell.  
  
"Simon was very aware of the island. He seemed to know everything that went on. And Piggy, well, Piggy was constantly scared and afraid, but he too seemed to be in possession of great knowledge."  
  
And what happened to them?"  
  
"They died in the fire."  
  
"What fire?"  
  
I felt like growling. The stupid woman probably knew what fire I was talking about.  
  
"The fire that was on the island when the officer found us."  
  
"And who set that fire?"  
  
I drummed my fingers on the armrest of my uncomfortable wooden chair.  
  


"It was a beacon fire that got out of control," I said, lying through my teeth.  
  
"Why did you need a beacon fire?"  
  
"Take a guess," I shot back. Her incompetence, or blatant stupidity, was grating on my nerves.  
  
"Now, Ralph, I suggest you calm down and tell me why you would need a beacon fire."  
  
Calm.  
  
"Because we were stranded on the island and it was the only thing we could do to signal ships, small as we were."  
  


She put her clipboard down on the ground. Her office was sparsely decorated, and I knew it wasn't hers. I was a ward of the state, and thus so, living in a shelter. The branch I was in was for children with mental handicaps and psychological problems. They thought I was loony, so they wouldn't send me to her London office. They cleaned out a linen closet and put a tiny desk and two chairs in it.  
  
"Ralph, I know the other two boys were killed. And I know you were the leader to begin with, and I know Jack took control through primal power and that the island was set to burn you alive. If you cannot talk about these things, you will never get over them."  
  
"I don't want to get over them." I hissed. "I want to dwell on them; in them. I want to remember that people are evil, that society is nothing more than an elaborate farce which comes down whenever people to impress are gone. Why do you think whores can sleep about so freely? They don't have parents to be ashamed for. They don't have siblings to hide from. Little boys can go mad when an adult isn't watching every move." I paused for breath as I saw the woman pull back in her chair. "You really want to know what happened on that island? Do you really?"  
  


She was staring at me, half horrified, and speechless.  
  
"Well I'm going to tell you, god dammit. You've poked and you've prodded, so now you get to know. I'm surprised you pushed this so far; I though you were supposed to be sensitive to my feelings, and yet you seem caught completely unawares.  
  
"Simon knew about the island. He knew what was driving the littluns mad. I have come to realize what it was as well. It was our own minds. The idea that danger was lurking behind every corner was simply a figment of a young child's imagination with no adult to disclaim it. I hadn't enough authority to tell them that nothing bad was going to happen, because I didn't believe it myself. Simon ran into the circle we'd created out of mad instinct. To dance, chant, 'hunt.' Simon ran straight into it and we ripped him apart. His body floated out to sea that night. We didn't even bury him we were so enthralled in our game.  
  
"Piggy was our logic. We all thought of Piggy as a nuisance, he was scared, couldn't do much labor because of his asthma. But he was an advisor to me, and thus so was made important. But Jack simply found him stupid and fat.  
  
"After Jack took control, which I'm assuming you know about, since everyone else seems to have broken the pact, Piggy was made obsolete. My power and authority was taken, and so was Piggy's. One of Jack's hunters, a boy named Roger, was even more mad then the others. He enjoyed punishing people, causing pain and killing. It was he who pushed the rock which caused Piggy to fall off the cliff. I'll never forget seeing my friend's brains smeared across those harsh rocks.  
  
"I ran from them, and the fire was lit to scare me out so I, too, could be killed. The only thing that saved me was the naval officer's arrival. I will never be able to fully thank him as I was unable to find my voice during the journey home.  
  
"I hear Roger over dosed on coke last year. His foster family was terribly saddened, but then, they never knew him like we knew him. Jack, he's gone away now, off in France I believe. His grandmother took him in. Samaneric, we keep in touch, even though the two of them are off in Scotland. An aunt took them in. Most of the littluns have been adopted. Some are still here, but we don't speak. To each other, we are simply reminders of a time they'd rather forget. Not like me. I want this pain."  
  
I had been holding the woman's eyes the entire time. She was simply sitting there, her hand covering her gaping mouth. I had proved I was not only capable of thought, but to her, twisted.  
  


I'm not though. I'd just rather not forget. Never. Forgetting would be like giving society some sort of undeserved prize.  
  
I stood up and left the woman and the tiny room with the clang of the heavy door.  
  
  


***  
  
A/N: There might be a Stage 2, focusing on Jack if such a fancy strikes me. I hope you all enjoy this lil' diddy, even if it is rather... irrational?


	2. Stage 2: Deny

  
  
  


A/N: I said I'd do it, didn't I?

  
  
  


Stage 2: Deny

  
  
  


I could see the stars.  
  
They were painstakingly beautiful, causing the dull ache in my hands throb bitterly to the damned chanting in my veins.  
  
Each single star glittered and sparkled, as if mocking me with their beauty about that night.  
  
The sky was clear then, too.  
  
We were chanting and dancing. All of us, even Ralph and his followers. We lit a fire, hunted littuns, all without thinking. And I led them. I led them all into it like sheep to the slaughter, prying them from the protective embrace of society. And Ralph.  
  
I only did it because Ralph took what I wanted. And he didn't even have to fight for it. He was handed control and leadership on a whim, and in my envy I stole it from him, damming us all.  
  
Simon often collapsed in the choir. He was a frail boy. I used to have to watch out for him, because of his weakness. He told me once, when I helped him up after a spill, that I was like his older brother. I growled and stalked off, but as I stormed away, I remember feeling warm and protective. He needed me.   
  
He needed me to help him from getting hurt. To protect him from himself. It felt like being someone's bodyguard, or a knight. I felt... alive.  
  
When we came to the island, I had to place my hold on Simon aside. I had to prove that the tribe would be my one concern.  
  
The first night we were there, the first night on that drenched land, Simon came to see me. At school, either I would check on him, or he would come to me, so I could fuss over him if needed.  
  
I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was scared; I saw death in those eyes. Death like I've never seen-  
  
And I ignored it. I roughly told him to fall in line with the other boys in the choir. They didn't know how attached to Simon I was; how maternal. I couldn't have them thinking I preferred Simon. I had to lead them all. So he pulled away, and when we met the others, he turned to Ralph. They became friends, and my younger brother, who I was so proud of, was no longer mine. I almost cried. I should've. It would have opened my eyes.  
  
But I had a tribe to lead. So when Ralph, when his grip faltered, I snatched leadership. And I ruled with absolute power. It was exhilarating, it was such a rush.   
  
And then it happened.  
  
Simon, he ran into the circle- I had no idea, no control...! There was nothing-but I...I killed him. I killed my younger brother, the boy I was supposed to protect forever. With my hands, I commanded his death. I twisted even Ralph's will, and I killed him. It was my fault. It _is_ my fault.  
  
But I couldn't mourn, and I couldn't admit. None of us ever spoke of it. Never. But… it gave my power credibility, and for the longest time, that was all I saw. The power, the madness.   
  
Just thinking about it, I become intoxicated by its haunting beauty. And I desire it. With all my body, as my veins hum for it, I shun the thought and close my eyes. That power is not for me.  
  
That power is not precious to me.  
  
It's okay now, Simon. You can stop hiding. It's only me. It's only Jack.  
  
  
____  
  


A/N: The reason why Jack is so attatched to Simon: I know he prolly wasn't attatched at all, but even if you care a tiny bit, after some dies like that, your memory isn't quite yours anymore.

  
  



End file.
